


Five Moments Lost

by Zaniida



Series: Mature Readers Only [5]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Brainwashing, Dark, Dark FMI, Drabble Sequence, Five Moments of Intimacy (Dark Variants), Gen, Memory Alteration, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Reality is not kind to Kevin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14928944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaniida/pseuds/Zaniida
Summary: Five ways in which Kevin's ability to be intimate with others has been stolen from him.





	Five Moments Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DisposalUnit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisposalUnit/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sing, Little Hummingbird](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2213874) by [kittleimp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittleimp/pseuds/kittleimp). 



> **DisposalUnit** , I dunno if you've even listened to _Welcome to Night Vale_ , but I think, of all my fans/friends here on this site, you're the one most likely to appreciate this story, even if you're not familiar with the character.
> 
> I wanted to delineate the [Five Moments of Intimacy](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031027) fic format a little further, by showing some variants way out of left field, and this is one: Systematically destroying a person's ability to be intimate with others, piece by piece, en route to making them a better puppet for your regime.
> 
> One of the things that fascinates me about Kevin is that the fandom offers so many different possible reasons for his surface cheerfulness in the face of horror (both what's around him and what he, himself, perpetrates). Does he honestly believe what he's saying? Is that because he's mind-controlled/brainwashed (supernaturally? psychologically? physically, like with a brain implant?), or maybe hopped up on drugs? Or does he simply refrain from saying what might get him in trouble (out of fear? pragmatism? learned helplessness?)? How much does he differ from Cecil in this regard?
> 
> In this fic, the line about him and fear is not absolute, simply his normal right now. He's clearly capable of getting afraid (end of the company picnic episode, for one), but not for the normal reasons, so it seems more like he's lost that ability, too.

Before StrexCorp… a ghostly thin memory, but, sometimes, briefly, he recalls having a friend.

The name is lost to him, and he… believed in something other than a Smiling God. How absurd.

Now and again, the man would stop eating for a while. Kevin used to join him, sometimes; the lack of food cleared his head, made his writing more interesting.

He’s not allowed to fast anymore. His nutrient bag gets changed on a schedule, the old one twisted off and the new one affixed to the feeding tube. It’s no longer under his control.

Not much is, these days.

* * *

His house was small, but homey; the walls had been covered in his paintings. The world around him -- the physical beauty and sheer variety -- was endlessly fascinating to him. On the radio, he mentioned it rarely; why discuss what could only be experienced through the sense of sight?

Somewhere in the remaking of his body, he lost the ability to see colors. Most of them. Now, he sees dingy greys, muddy greens. And black.

And his brain doesn’t like it when he tries to consider whether something _looks nice_ , so he gave up trying to think that way, decades ago.

* * *

Vanessa had always been waiting for him with a cup of coffee; he’d take it from her and peck her on the cheek, a quick thank-you for everything she did to keep the station running smoothly.

They killed Vanessa. He watched it happen, helpless to spare her.

They let him keep _that_ memory.

Then they sliced open his mouth, sewed up the jagged cuts into a parody of a smile. Just moving it to talk feels like shards of glass under the skin, a skin that cracks and groans along the fault lines.

And he can’t purse his lips anymore.

* * *

Sometimes, he finds the edges of a thought, the idea of maybe, at one point, having a sister, and maybe standing by a grave while they both silently cried.

The grave itself is vivid, but he’s not sure who it’s for, or who stood beside it. Was he even there?

Sadness is beyond him, now; he only has the one emotion, anymore. Or sometimes the sparkling edges of something like anger. Even fear is gone, now.

And his unreliable tear ducts have been replaced; now they’re controlled by necessity, not emotion, and they spread black oil out over his eyes.

* * *

In his final moments before StrexCorp seized him, Kevin had shared with his listeners every secret he could think to share, knowledge the only power he had left. If there had been any left to listen to his words over the airwaves, they had been with him in that awareness of the coming darkness.

Strex has altered his brain, distorting meanings, removing words; even if he wanted to rebel, he couldn’t put together the right _thoughts_ now, much less communicate them.

The weight of the secrets he bears is hidden beneath compulsory misdirection; truth and awareness are now the enemy.

**Author's Note:**

> By the by, the character described in the first section is not based on any existing character I'm aware of. I debated about shared experiences that can be intimate yet are distinct from experiences I've already portrayed, and decided on the inversion of sharing a meal. So the character is, broadly, a guy from any religion that participates in regular fasts.
> 
> I had been specifically considering whether it's likely that a citizen in Desert Bluffs might be a Jain, but I didn't really come to any conclusion, as I have little information on them beyond "they try to be super non-violent, like, even to _root vegetables_ ," which is barely even enough detail to qualify as a stereotype, and hardly worth actually basing a character on. But I'm trying to allow for greater variety in my side characters, even if the detail is pretty sparse.


End file.
